Ensnared
by Kayka
Summary: In some realities, Sarah never read the book or made the wish. And with everything else going wrong in this one, ending up with the wrong cup of coffee is the least of her worries. AU. Sareth. First chapter is specifically written to fill the "Spooky Goings-on Challenge" at Labyfic. Current update: Dreamspinner (Part 2 of 3)
1. Ensnared

**Disclaimer: **I had one of those wood mazes with the little ball you had to roll around once.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Ensnared**

* * *

"Sorry, but that's wrong. You owe me-"

Sarah's mind stuttered to a halt as she met the barista's raptorial gaze. His answering grin to her undivided attention sent a chill up her spine.

"Ah. So I do. Apologies."

Electricity prickled across her skin where his hand brushed her own in offering the remaining change.

_That can't be normal._

She shrugged off the sensation in favor of speculating on the mystery man.

Tom surely would have mentioned yesterday that he had found help. Well, unless he had hired the man after her morning coffee run, which was entirely possible. The little 'help wanted' sign had been collecting dust and cobwebs in the window for ages. The small coffee shop was gaining traction, especially since it was situated close to campus and catered to the caffeinated university youth. For her part, Sarah was happy to patronize her local business owners, especially when they made coffee as wonderful as Tom did.

In a little hole in the wall place like Java Dream, it was not exactly unusual for the sole proprietor to run a one-man show during the off hours. But with the cafe's expanding popularity, even Tom needed a break here and again.

Sarah resisted asking after the shop owner; it was clearly the new guy's first day, and she didn't want to throw him off his game.

Well, that and the man simultaneously intrigued and terrified her. This response was instinctual and visceral, completely irrational maybe, but Sarah had always fancied herself an excellent judge of character. Her gut told her to be wary, despite the guy's outwardly obvious charms.

Realizing that she had been staring at the man with ruffled bond hair and uneven, intense blue eyes for far longer than could reasonably be deemed as appropriate, Sarah blushed and managed to get out a strangled, 'no problem,' in belated reference to his apology.

She immediately decided to forget the last two embarrassing minutes of her life. The young woman scurried out of the cafe, coffee in hand.

A test sip later, Sarah found the temperature was perfect, but her mouth twisted at the unexpected sweetness.

_I didn't order a mocha. _

Sure, it had been what she _wanted_, but it was not what she had _ordered_, having decided to forego the extra sugar this morning.

Sarah turned back to the cafe only to find the man from moments before gone. Tom was back to running the counter as always. _That_ was strange enough to merit investigation.

The bell tinkled as the young woman stepped back inside.

"Hey, Sarah! The usual?"

"Thanks, Tom, but I already got it from the new barista."

"Sorry, who?"

Sarah looked around. The man from before was nowhere in sight.

"The new guy. He was just here a minute ago. Did he step out?"

The shop owner's brow furrowed. "I'm not sure what you're talking about Sarah. Brenda called in sick, and I've been the only one manning the cafe since five."

"Oh, um, right. Sorry, too much caffeine, not enough sleep. Right. I'll, um… tomorrow," she tittered nervously, quickly making her way back out again before more awkward questions could arise.

It wouldn't do to be late on top of the strange morning she was already having. Punctuality had been drilled into her by a well meaning, albeit overbearing, stepmother. Though, Sarah supposed, she had really been having a strange week. Month, even.

Though she had no idea what just happened, the coffee was real enough and the container was identical to any Tom would have provided. Sarah sipped at the beverage dubiously. That probably wasn't the brightest idea, since it could be poisoned or something equally horrible. If she actually had time, she would not have risked it. And had she been a bit more concerned with her own safety, she would have just tossed the drink and forgone her morning coffee altogether. But that first taste was so perfect, and the second was no less beguiling. Sarah gave into temptation, and polished it off long before she made it to her bus stop.

Potential drugging or imminent death aside, Sarah had to admit that it was the best coffee she'd ever tasted in her life.

She found the glass bauble rolling around her bag when she opened it to seek out her wayward bus pass. The sphere was about the size of a baseball, but that was not the most interesting part. The orb glowed with a soft incandescence that invited touch. Before Sarah could think better of it, mesmerized by the swirling light, she did just that. Her only thought was how startlingly warm the surface was before it shattered in her grasp, altering the course of her destiny forever.

* * *

Sarah woke up. Or, rather, she became aware. She did not remember going to sleep, nor was she lying down. She simply Was when a moment ago, as far as she could tell, she Had Not Been.

The last thing she remembered was getting coffee- and that handsome, strange man that had pulled a disappearing act.

By her estimation it was...

_It's night. _Late _at night._

"What? Where-"

Sarah paused in voicing her groggy thoughts in favor of actually taking in her surroundings. She was standing in the middle of a familiar park.

"No. This isn't _possible_."

The woman rubbed at her eyes. Even if she had taken an immediate flight that she couldn't remember, this park was over a thousand miles away. She had not been there since before she graduated high school. And _her_ park didn't have a creepy old house at the crest of the property.

She was prevented from further contemplation by a bone-chilling scream. A bird flew down low, pulling up just in time to prevent itself from crashing into her.

And then, she swore _it winked_ at her as it flew off into the night, disappearing into the inky blackness faster than should have been possible for such a light colored creature.

* * *

"Miss Williams?"

Sarah snapped back to awareness, finding herself in the office of a cantankerous older gentleman graced with a bulbous nose and a perpetually grumpy brow. She had no idea how she made it to this meeting on time and had absolutely no memory the journey at all- nothing but a gaping blank spot where the bus ride should be. It was as if she magically went from that already fading dream to here.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

The lawyer simply nodded and repeated the pertinent information about the house she was inheriting.

She tried to be more attentive this time. He already thought she was enough of a flake.

"As I was saying, Miss Williams, the house has been left in your care. You know this, of course, but I've retrieved the remaining items from your aunt's safety deposit box. She left the contents to you."

The man placed a shoebox and several sets of keys and papers on the desk in front of her.

In truth her great aunt Agnes' passing had not been a surprise. The woman's particular brand of cancer had a low survival rate, and it had not exactly been caught early. The true surprise came with the reading of the old woman's will: unbeknownst to the rest of the family, the woman had owned a house and some property despite spending her later years in an apartment downtown. The second surprise had been that the property and all its contents were bequeathed to one Sarah Williams.

It had been weeks since the funeral, and Sarah grieved for the woman that she had grown much closer to since moving here to work on her master's coursework. But her aunt had lived a full life and did not suffer long at the end. Sarah fought back the self-recriminations that she could have spent more time with Agnes before her rapid deterioration.

_That's the problem. There's just never _enough_ time. And this house is sure to take up even more_, the brunette mused as her brief meeting with the lawyer drew to a close.

Sarah gathered the box, keys, and paperwork from the desk, squashing the feeling that a new, heavy burden had just been laid upon her shoulders.

* * *

She had thought to sell the house at first, sight unseen. According to her papers the property most certainly came with more land than she could ever possibly care for. Besides, she had an apartment in the city, close to school, and Sarah had absolutely zero plans on permanently settling down_ here,_ of all places. The city was great with regard to her post-graduate program, but it lacked a fundamental, unidentifiable quality Sarah was looking for in a place to call home.

Naturally, just when the young woman thought she had made up her mind to sell the place, her curiosity went and got the best of her. The house might have some of Agnes' keepsakes, and Sarah could not stand the thought of forever wondering if she had let some old family mementos get thrown by the wayside.

It really only made sense to at least look at the place. This way, she would not be contacting a real estate agent in a blind panic to get the property off her hands.

Her plans on selling crumbled to dust the moment she caught sight of the house from the back seat of the hired cab. The place was a tad gothic, with its brooding color, ornate upper balcony, and gabled roof. The place even had funny little gargoyles standing watch along the dormers for cripes sake. The only thing that detracted and set the house firmly in the present was the newish car parked under the wooden carport, an obvious later addition to the much older home.

Sarah was instantly charmed.

Even so, a niggling thought in the back of her mind had the woman convinced that she had seen the house before, though she could not immediately place its seeming familiarity.

_Maybe Agnes showed me a picture or something._

Her conveyance stopped short of the enclosing wrought iron fence, and Sarah dismissed the driver without second thought.

Once she got the tricky gate open, with a real skeleton key no less, Sarah took her time in admiring the place from outside.

The car was a welcome, but not wholly unexpected discovery; she had found a set of car keys while sorting through and figuring out possible uses for the the other keys in her charge. The vehicle would probably need serviced before she could actually use it, but she had decided beforehand on keeping the car regardless of her ultimate assessment of the property.

_No more ridiculously long bus commutes for this girl._

The interior of the house was as opulent as the exterior, and someone had even paid the power and phone bills.

_It was probably Mr. Hogg. _

The lawyer had taken a proactive interest in helping her figure out everything that went along with her inheritance. She really should thank him again. Now, she did not have to worry about iffy cell reception when she called the taxi service later.

The place seemed lived in, though the encroaching dust suggested that it had been some months since it had truly been inhabited. Sarah felt a pang in her chest as she realized that this was where her aunt disappeared to for half of every week, right up until the end when she was no longer able to walk.

Snapping herself out of the depressing train of thought, the young woman continued her perusal. It would probably take her months to catalog the furniture and decide what to keep. As she made her way through the old-fashioned entertaining room, replete with a harpsichord probably worth a small fortune, Sarah heard the cringe-inducing pitter-patter of scurrying footsteps on the second floor.

_Great, I'll have to get an exterminator before anything else._

She finished with her tour of the ground floor and was faced with the choice of going up or going down. Wanting to put off the inevitable discovery of what promised to be a thriving rodent colony by the sound of it, Sarah found herself at the top of a staircase that led down into the dark unknown.

She blanched, reminded of every B-rated horror film she had ever made fun of, in which the ditzy heroine goes to investigate somewhere dark and scary even though it rails against all common sense.

And now, somehow, _Sarah_ had turned into the ditzy heroine.

_Isn't that just an awesome slice of karma? No more making fun of stupid horror flicks, after this. _

Exploring abandoned houses alone ranked right up there with the ever popular, 'let's split up, gang!' These were things one just did not do if they wanted to remain A. alive and, or B. sane.

She wasn't even being melodramatic. Halfway down, Sarah felt a prickling of awareness at her nape.

There was no way anyone else could possibly be in the house with her, but the feeling of being observed grew with every tension-filled step of her descent.

The basement was _creepy_ even after she flicked on the lights. Thankfully, the paranoid feeling of being watched abated with the man-made brightness, and Sarah felt a bit silly.

She was an adult and did not need anyone to hold her hand for something as simple as a quick run through of the house. Maybe she would convince Dad to come down for a visit soon to help her out and eliminate some of the creep factor, but surely, Sarah could manage a cursory inspection without spazzing out.

"Unfinished" seemed to be a generous term with respect to what obviously served as the laundry room cum storage area of the house. The concrete floor ended about fifteen feet from the bottom of the stairs, and beyond that was hard-packed earth. Past the washer and dryer, furniture, shelves, and strategically placed walls created a veritable maze that encompassed the entirety of the rest of the basement.

_Forget _weeks_, it will take me _months_ to sort through all the junk down here!_

Most disturbing, however, was that Sarah could not discern the far walls, even though naked light bulbs sizzled brightly at regular intervals.

It was likely a trick of the construction, as the haphazardly placed walls were meant to support key areas of the above structure and separate what would have been a cavernous space into discrete sections. But the basement _seemed_ to stretch beyond what should have marked the foundation of the house.

On a stack of books several paces past the end of the concrete, something red caught her eye. If this portion of the underground space had not been so well lit, Sarah never would have considered venturing farther.

She lingered on the edge for a moment, clinging to the absurd notion that as long as she remained on the poured flooring, she was safe. Pushing the inane thought aside, Sarah pressed forward, determined to inspect the potential treasure trove. Two steps later, she began to hear the same skittering she had heard upstairs.

_The place is totally infested. It will probably have to be fumigated._

A high-pitched giggle tittered close by on her left, and the young woman froze, a beat away from running for her life.

The crash of falling books and furniture accompanied the second giggle.

_Not a rat. Sooo not a rat._

She turned, finding herself face to face with an unkempt, hideously wide-eyed creature, bearing a smile she was sure to remember in her fondest nightmares.

The Thing giggled one final time.

Sarah screamed.

* * *

**A/N:** I _know_ that I shouldn't be starting anything new with both of my other major WIPs that I should be working on, but to be fair, this isn't really new-new, and my writing muse made me do it.

Edit: Just to allay some fears, no, it does not end here, yes, there is more on the way. My draft grew a bit longer than I initially anticipated, and there was simply no way that I could adequately revise the entirety of the rough draft before the challenge deadline. So, I decided to break the story up into shorter, more manageable-for-editing chunks rather than posting it as a long one-shot. This way, you might actually get some suspense out of it, too. Thanks, for reading!


	2. Dreamspinner

**Chapter 2: Dreamspinner**

* * *

Falling back on her rear, Sarah felt grossly, mind-bogglingly stupid.

If her heart had not been beating out of her chest she might have laughed. Well, that and she was just suddenly thankful that no one had been around to witness her shame.

Three feet away, the source of her dismay lay innocuous and uncaring about the trouble it just caused. The hideous doll was naked with white, gravity defying hair. Sarah waved her hand one last time to confirm her suspicions, trying not to jump as the grating sound burst forth. The creepy as hell giggling was _motion activated_.

For an instant as she tripped over her own feet, Sarah would have sworn that she saw something else, something alive and wholly inexplicable. But when her brain caught up with her visual processing, a dumb, grinning troll doll lay on its side in front of her.

_What kind of sadistic bastard thought it would be a good idea to put a giggling voice box in these things_?

They were creepy enough on their own. Her stepmother had given her one, with shocking pink hair and mischievous green eyes, years upon years ago, when Sarah had been obsessed with fantasy and fairytales. A young Sarah had conveniently 'lost' the thing in the local park a day later.

The doll would be the first thing she threw away when she had a chance. Or maybe she would do the world a service and burn the damned thing.

The scurrying footsteps occupied a far corner of the basement, now. Apparently she had managed to scare the hell out of that rat with her flailing and screaming. At least Sarah hoped it was a rat and not some other form of wildlife that had gotten into the house. She really did not care to find out; the exterminator could figure it out first thing Monday morning.

Once Sarah dusted off and found herself physically unharmed, she didn't linger in the basement, taking the stairs by twos after she flicked the lights off with the handle of an old broom.

The young woman slammed and locked the basement door with no small amount of satisfaction.

She would have to see about getting a light and a switch wired in at the top. For now, she reasoned that she could keep a flashlight by the door, if she could muster up the will to go down there again.

The strange dread Sarah harbored for the duration of her basement misadventure melted away the farther she got away from the downward-leading portal.

_Imagine it: a real live troll. Or even a goblin._ Sarah snickered to herself.

It amazed her how quickly the brain latched on to the impossible as a means of explaining the world. It must be some sort of obsolete survival mechanism, passed down from the progenitors of humanity, she reasoned. Belief in supernatural explanations could have kept early man alive when he otherwise may have fallen prey to things that were now thoroughly understood, relatively mundane, phenomena. The brain on fear was a fascinating organ, and thinking analytically went a long way in calming her down and helping her dissociate from the embarrassing episode in the basement.

By the time she reached the kitchen, Sarah felt fine.

* * *

In the blackness, a hand drew languidly down her arm. Prickling electricity danced across her skin in the invisible hand's path. She jerked away from the sensation but there was nowhere to go in the blackness. This dream was as lucid as any other that she never remembered upon waking. Sarah had control of her own actions, but-

A flash of gold swept in front of her.

"Who's there?" She asked, proud that her voice did not waver.

She received no answer, not that she had truly expected one. She forged onward.

_Come out, come out, wherever you are. _

She was unsure if that taunt was hers or the Other's.

Sarah stiffened at the puffs of breath expelled behind her left ear. He was laughing at her. She wondered how she knew it was a 'he,' but the dream faded with his laughter before she could confirm her suspicions.

Movement registered out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see a creature fluff up its wings and fly off into the night.

Sarah blinked up at the ceiling, vaguely aware that she had forgotten something. Even as sleep reclaimed her, the feeling of being unsettled remained.

* * *

Between getting the house livable, getting the car street legal, _moving_, subletting her apartment, keeping up with classes, _and_ starting research for her thesis, Sarah commenced every day in a zombielike state.

It had been exactly two weeks exactly since the young woman last set foot in her favorite coffee stop, and on this morning, Sarah found herself dithering outside.

On this utterly auspicious morning, Sarah's alarm never went off. She was subsequently running late, and her coffee stock had been much lower than she had thought- not enough to make a cup much less the minimum half-full pot recommended by the machine. And Java Dream was _on her way_. She was tired, cranky, and most importantly: not properly caffeinated; it was silly, not to mention coffee-depriving-masochistic, to avoid the place.

The strange incident with the blond man from weeks ago would not repeat itself. She could even see Tom through the window.

With one final deep breath Sarah steeled herself and ventured into the wonderful-smelling shop.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in. You take a vacation?"

"Hey, Tom. I _wish_! I'm sort of moving," Sarah shrugged, as though her abrupt change of long standing habit was not a big deal. "It's an absolute _nightmare_."

"Yeah, well let me know if I can do anything to help," the shop owner said.

"Sure, thanks."

Tom took her order and Sarah began fishing her wallet out of her purse. Tom may have something, and Sarah nodded along in attentively.

_I really need to clean this thing out some time. Huge, cluttered, and can't find anything._

When she looked back up, the man with ruffled blond hair and glittering eyes made no effort to hide his examination of her. Tom was nowhere in sight. In fact, the shop was eerily silent save for the staccato tattoo of her heart thrumming in her ears.

Some previously latent instinct urged her to turn around and run like hell, but Sarah Williams was no coward. She faced her problems head on with something akin to recklessness. Spooky basement excluded.

The man spoke first.

"Is something the matter, miss?"

Sarah did not know what she had been expecting, but that was not it. Maybe some creepy acknowledgement of their last meeting, or a mysterious threat or something. It was like he was just going to pretend this was the first time they had ever met. Sarah shook her head.

"Where's Tom?"

The man rolled his eyes, made an exasperated noise behind his teeth, and nodded toward the end of the bar where Tom was busy with the grinder. The hustle and bustle of the shop asserted itself in sharp relief to the silence of a moment prior.

Sarah threw down a five dollar note and scurried to the far end of the counter.

"Tom, who _is_ that?"

"You sure you okay, kid? I thought you heard me a minute ago. That's-"

"E.J.," the man from the till interceded, joining them at the pick up counter. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss..."

"Sarah," her name popped out of her mouth before better judgment stopped her. Stupid ingrained manners. At least she had not volunteered the whole thing.

At that point, Sarah made the mistake of looking up and truly taking in the man's face. He may not have been handsome in the traditional sense. He was too sharp, too hawkish, but his features _suited_ him, making him oddly compelling. And when he spoke, Sarah could not help but find the blond man beautiful.

Oh, E.J. _was_ talking. Sarah may not have heard him, but she got the message when he held out her previously abandoned change. He did not seem inclined to lay it on the counter, so she gingerly reached for it. Her efforts to avoid contact were wasted, as the man's other hand reached up from below to gently steady the hand Sarah did not realize was shaking.

The spark she had encountered on their first meeting was dulled. He was wearing a pair of fine leather gloves today. Terribly incongruous with his setting, but Sarah found them oddly appropriate.

"Been here about two weeks; just moved into town," and with that, Tom broke the strange spell between Sarah and E.J. the barista. The man continued on blithely unaware of the tension "Does a great job, but I don't know if I can convince him to become permanent though. Coffee's not exactly as glamorous as what he used to do in London."

The blond man chuckled, and Sarah's breath hitched. It was familiar and set the young woman on edge, though she had no idea why. The man had not spoken more than a handful of words to her

"Now, Tom, I shall be of service as long as is _necessary_," The words were directed at Tom, but E.J.'s eyes never left her own, as he winked conspiratorially. A misplaced thrill of attraction raced down her spine. Sarah grabbed the coffee Tom had just placed on the counter and fled, managing to toss a frantic word of being late just as she crossed the threshold.

"Sarah!" E.J. called, just before the door slammed shut.

She halted, cringing internally and, possibly, externally.

_Crap, what now?_

"You dropped this," E.J. said, as he passed her a thin, red book.

The young woman grabbed for the object, not sparing it a glance or further thought as she shoved the volume into her purse.

"You really ought to be more careful. I might not always be around to rescue your belongings."

"Thanks," Sarah mumbled. There was something about him that made her feel uncharacteristically shy.

"Until our paths next cross." He nodded in acknowledgment, flashing her a grin as he turned back inside.

Was he _flirting_ with her? Sarah almost laughed aloud at the thought.

E.J. seemed harmless enough; well, for everything but her nerves. Sarah still had questions about that first meeting, but she was probably remembering it wrong. She _had_ been under a lot of stress lately. Maybe if he didn't find the need to fluster her, she would not have made herself look like a total basket case the past two times she had encountered him.

"Well, that settles it. I can never go back in there again." Sarah grumbled to herself, trudging forth to start her day.

* * *

"Do you enjoy my gift?"

Sarah searched, but she could not find the speaker. In fact, the only creature in sight was an owl perched upon an old stone obelisk. Like many of her recent dreams, Sarah found herself in a bizarre combination of her favorite childhood park and an impossible garden. This time, it felt more vibrant, and she felt more lucid than ever before.

"Do you, Sarah?"

The young woman spun to find a man reclining indolently atop a nearby stone fence-wall. At her attention, he hopped down, and drew close enough to circle her.

"What gift?"

"Then you have not remembered it yet. Pity."

Sarah shivered involuntarily at his tone and took a tentative step back.

"Ah, ah, there is no need to run from the dreams I spin you, precious thing. You are quite safe here. Now, we just need to jog your memory."

Sarah stopped as she recognized the man in front of her.

"You're him!" She shouted in disbelief.

The strange man was more flamboyantly dressed than the coffee shop guy, and his hair was much longer and wilder. Plus he had something freaky going on with his eyes. This _king_ almost looked like he should belong on the cover of a fantasy romance novel, but he was the same person, she was certain.

"Yes, we do have this conversation quite often. I can never quite gauge what you take with you after." He cocked his head then, as if listening for something, in much the same way a dog might. But the way he looked at her gave Sarah an impression of a more imposing predator.

"Oh dear, there _is_ some mischief afoot this eve."

Sarah woke to a crash of rumbling thunder as rain splattered heavily against her bedroom window. The details of her dream dribbled out of her brain as soon as she opened her eyes. Her dream king was becoming a near nightly recurrence, and the vague impressions she carried with her into waking seemed rather a inadequate since each morning, Sarah was left with the distinct impression of something steamy occurring more often than not in her slumber. That, or she had read one too many trashy romance novels and they had leached into brain irrevocably corrupting her subconscious.

It was her second night staying in the house, and she had not quite grown accustomed to waking in the unfamiliar place. The lightning cast odd shadows that Sarah tried to ignore. The house was gorgeous during the day time, but at night she had to admit that the often creaky place freaked her the hell out. She had never been truly alone before- having previously lived in her family home or in an apartment building with reasonably accountable neighbors less than ten feet from her front door. But out here she felt how acutely alone she was. The house really was too big for one person.

The second crash came from down stairs, _inside the house_, and Sarah had to remind herself to breathe. She faintly ridiculous grabbing her heavy, metal lamp from the bedside table and yanking the cord out of the wall in the process. But the weight was comforting in her grip and could hopefully stave off robbers, rodents, and anything in between.

_It's just an animal scared by the storm or something. No biggie._

She crept down the stairs and even managed to avoid the noisy third step down. When Sarah reached the ground floor, she waited for a moment before flicking on a light. She checked each room, finding nothing amiss, and chalked it up to weird old house noises, until she heard another crash coming from the basement. Apparently, the house was not as rodent free or rodent proof as the exterminator had assured her.

"No way," the woman refused aloud, dropping her arm from its ready to strike pose and allowing the lamp to dangle loosely in her grip before placing it next to the staircase. She took a detour to the kitchen.

After making sure the basement door was still locked from her side, Sarah did the mature thing and wedged a kitchen chair under the door handle.

The young woman never quite made it back to sleep that night. She put an ad in the paper for a roommate the next day.

* * *

"_You_!" Sarah had a strange sense of déjà vu as she said it.

To be fair he sounded different on the phone. His voice had been sex. Er.. deeper, and a staticky connection did a lot to minimize his accent. How was she supposed to know that Ewan Hart was E.J. the barista from Java Dream? It was not as though he had his last name on his nametag.

Regardless, E.J. Hart had some explaining to do. This _couldn't_ be coincidence.

"Well, this _is _a surprise. Don't you agree? I would dare to call it fate," the man responded to the accusatory pronoun.

"You _knew_ it was me when you called about renting."

"It could have been any Sarah. It is a quite common name from my understanding. As is Williams, not that I knew your surname."

Sarah bristled and crossed her arms defensively.

"You are determined to think the worst of me, are you not, miss Williams?"

"Well, yeah. If you hadn't noticed, you're sort of stalking me," Sarah huffed.

He actually seemed affronted at that accusation.

"I am doing no such thing. I am simply in need of accommodation. The extended stay hotel is becoming more burden than it is worth. And _you_ offer suspiciously low rent. Perhaps it is_ I_ that should be asking you what is wrong with the property."

No one. Not one single person had answered her ad in the past week, save for him. Even when she had lowered her asking price for rent to be over two hundred dollars less than every other house in the area.

She knew these sorts of things took time, but Sarah was growing desperate to not be alone in the house after dark. There was one memorable night, when she returned home later than usual, and the little gargoyles were all _missing_ from the roof. Sure, they had been in their respective places the next morning, and Sarah could not be sure that her paranoia was real or imagined. She _knew_, however, she was not imagining that the crashing noises in the basement were growing worse and that her things had started to go missing only to turn up later in bizarre places.

With the alternative of staying in the house alone, suddenly, Ewan did not seem so bad a prospect. She was even kind of, sort of, familiar with him.

_Better E.J. Hart than no one at all. _

_Probably._

"There's nothing wrong. I need a little help paying for the upkeep of this place. A roommate is a no brainer," Sarah said, aiming for nonchalance. "I just need to be sure that _you're_ not an axe murderer or something."

The man rolled his eyes in a gesture that was becoming increasingly familiar.

"I seem to have forgotten my weapon of choice today. I'm afraid you will have to settle for death by car key," E.J. deadpanned.

Sarah cracked a reluctant smile.

* * *

It was a surreal thing. Suddenly, the man had inserted himself seamlessly into her life and turned out to be neither creepy nor overbearing as she had assumed from her initial impressions. In fact, to Sarah's mixed chagrin and relief, Ewan Hart turned out to be a perfect gentleman. Their schedules kept her from seeing much of him during the day, but E.J. was there at night, and she had not endured her routinely disconcerting nocturnal occurrences since he moved in.

She may have been fine with the rest of the house during the day, but the basement remained a personal sticking point. Figuring out her aversion to the subterranean space, E.J. even did her laundry. The first time she found her clean delicates in a basket outside her door, Sarah could have died from embarrassment. But if it saved her from having to go into the hell-mouth of a basement, she decided that she could deal.

It was a few days after he moved in that the vivid dreams began in earnest. Her midnight phantom that she could never quite remember in the past became_ him_. He was wilder, different, but it was undeniably E.J., weird penchant for gloves and all. Sarah wondered what it said about her that her new roommate slash crush starred in her dreams not as himself, but as a roguish fairytale king.

This particular dream ended differently, though. As with all of her dreams, she was left only with an impression of emotion upon waking, and _that_ terrifying episode had been no dream at all. Dream-version E.J. had not even made a guest appearance.

The nightmare had her in the kitchen making hot cocoa at three o'clock in the morning.

E.J. made plenty of noise coming down the stairs- he had learned quickly that startling her was a sure fire way to get accidentally punched in the face.

The man gracefully slumped into the chair next to hers.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asked, voice thick with sleep.

"Nightmare. You?"

"Ah. Nature called. Saw a light down here on my way. Thought I'd check it out."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment until Sarah found that in her fidgeting, she was shredding her napkin to pieces. E.J. noticed as well, more alert than moments prior.

"You seem quite distressed. Do you have nightmares often?"

"No," Sarah said. She had _dreams_ every night, but they were rarely ever nightmares.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't even remember it," the young woman complained. "I just feel…"

Apparently, E.J. took that as his cue to try to lighten the mood.

"Then it is quite fortuitous for you that I am here to take your mind off your dreams."

Sarah snorted. "Oh yeah? How generous of you."

She did not realize she was crying until she found herself enveloped in a pair of strong arms and a fierce hug.

He led her to the living room and sat her on the couch next to himself, flipping on the ancient wood frame t.v. while he was at it. It played a rerun of that night's news in black and white providing comforting background noise.

"Come now, Sarah. It's all right; I've got you."

She did not know how it happened but at some point between him rubbing soothing circles on her back and telling her inane little stories to calm her down, Sarah ended up in his lap. And then his lips tantalizingly brushed against her own once, twice, pulling away before she could reciprocate the almost, not quite, kiss.

Sarah groaned in disappointment, and she peeked up to take in the rueful smile gracing his face.

"Now is not the right time, Sarah-mine. Later, I promise that we shall explore every one of your dreams."

It was a strange thing to say, but she did not question it as E.J. rearranged her more comfortably in his lap while stroking her hair and humming soothing lullabies.

He let her remain there for a time before coaxing her back awake enough to return her to her room and her surely-much-more-comfortable-than-the-couch-and-his-lap bed. As he phrased it, anyway.

Sarah was once again on the cusp of sleep in said bed when a stray, nagging, truth drifted up from the depths of her subconscious. The young woman jerked upright and fully awake.

_I don't have a Great Aunt Agnes. I've_ never _had a Great Aunt Agnes._

* * *

**A/N:** One more chapter to go! c:


End file.
